Chapter II

"What's happening?" were Jean-Luc's first thoughts as his consciousness emerged from the void. The last thing he remembered was Mathilde crying and shouting frantically while trying to resuscitate him. *She must not have succeeded,* he thought. The infamous white light had mercilessly swallowed him. Then he was gone, without regret.

So how on earth was he alive?

As his eyes struggled to open (it was as if they were glued shut), he started to meticulously feel his body. Both it and the clothes he was wearing were soaked; he felt like he was floating in a watery substance.

*Okay, this is getting weirder and weirder.* He doubted he was dreaming; if he was, this would be surreal. *Stay calm, breathe slowly and steadily.*

Two long minutes later, he had recovered enough energy to open his eyes. After adjusting to the ambient light, he was speechless. He expected many bizarre things, like being in a sort of bath like Wolverine. But certainly not to see a riverbank, and even less a forest with trees of scandalous height.

As he stood up to better observe his surroundings, Jean-Luc suddenly felt an excruciating headache. It was like he had been trepanned. The pain was so intense that tears streamed down his cheeks, and his nose became runny from screaming and gritting his teeth.

He didn't know what was happening; a series of memories that didn't belong to him were entering his brain and grafting onto the ones he already had. Shimmering dragon, Sect of the Immutable Heavens, qi, dantian, Qi disciple, Chen Wei. All these pieces of information flashed through his mind at a staggering speed. They seemed both obscure and familiar.

*It stopped!* he suddenly realized. The pain had vanished as if by magic. The information had arranged itself in his brain, making sense of the entire situation. And this situation was far from joyful.

*By all the gods, how did I reincarnate, and in a fantasy world no less?* he wondered in shock. If it hadn't been for his son's obsession with these kinds of stories, he wouldn't have understood any of this. It wasn't his thing; he was too busy and too old for this kind of tale.

Apparently, the body he was in, or simply his new self, was called Chen Wei. He was 20 years old and a servant in a sect called the Sect of the Immutable Heavens. He had joined at the age of 17 as a servant but had never advanced to the rank of Qi disciple due to his mediocre talent for cultivation. During all these years at the sect, he had been a kitchen boy for the outer circle of the sect.

Still incredulous, Jean-Luc leaned over the water of the river and was struck by the image reflected in it.

A man about 1.85 meters tall stared back at him, with an athletic build and finely sculpted muscles under slightly tanned skin. However, it was the face that caught his attention the most. The features were marked by fatigue and weariness. His almond-shaped eyes, dark brown, were deeply set and surrounded by dark circles, evidence of hard times and inner despair. They had lost their sparkle, reflecting a life of struggles and hardships.

His face bore the marks of a painful life, with premature wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth. A few days' worth of beard covered his chin and cheeks, adding to his neglected appearance. His black hair, disheveled, fell in irregular strands around his face, further accentuating his exhausted look.

*Chen Wei,* he realized with a hint of bitterness. *He had become Chen Wei, a man whose face told a story of struggles and hardships, marked by the weight of years and trials.*

"This is so complicated. How did I end up in the middle of nowhere?" Jean-Luc muttered in despair. To this question, Chen Wei's memories surfaced to clarify the situation. In this world, the rivalry between the different sects was fierce and relentless. The Sect of the Immutable Heavens, despite its flashy name, was a small fish in a big pond. Maintaining this competition long-term required many resources. To do so, they had to make choices. And Chen Wei's dismissal from the sect was one of them.

Despite being meticulous in his work and diligent in his cultivation, the sect had lost all hope in him. Even though they spent little resources on him while squeezing him dry, saving even that little bit seemed more beneficial.

Upon his dismissal, an elder had pitied him and given him enough to survive for some time. For a mortal (a term for non-practitioners), this amount could last six months to a year. However, for a self-respecting cultivator, it was pitiful.

"However, that didn't prevent me from being murdered," he said aloud, a clear bitterness in his voice. Two disciples from the sect's outer circle had followed him, robbed him, beaten him to death, and finally thrown his body off a cliff. A useless waste like him didn't need money, they said.

From what little he had learned so far from this body's memories, he had no interest in going back to seek justice if he didn't want to die a third time.

He couldn't go home either. Chen Wei's family was strangers to him. They wouldn't be happy to see him again; they had invested a lot for him to enter this sect. For nearly a hundred years, he was the first member of his village to become a cultivator. Imagine their disappointment upon learning he hadn't even become a Qi disciple.

"What did I do to deserve this, for God's sake!" Chen Wei lamented, holding his head. He had died as Jean-Luc from some mysterious cause, died as Chen Wei because he was weak. Now, he was both, lost in a strange forest, weak, alone, beaten, and penniless.

Gurgle! The sharp, continuous sound from his stomach reminded him he was extremely hungry. It had been nearly three days since he was thrown off that damn cliff. He needed to find something to eat quickly; the adrenaline of reincarnation was beginning to wear off.

*Even if hunting wasn't a sport he liked in his past life, he knew how to hunt, skin, and cook game meat.* The hitch was that he was in a wild environment, without any survival kit at hand, spices, or other amenities of the kind. *Given the intimidating appearance of the forest, he doubted there were any edible fruits.*

"This body should be stronger than a normal human's," he said, unenthusiastically, as he reluctantly headed towards the forest.

The forest was a real maze of dense and sinister vegetation. The colossal trees, with gnarled and twisted trunks, formed an impenetrable natural ceiling, blocking almost all light. The ambient gloom added a touch of dread to every corner. Massive roots snaked over the ground, ready to trip the unwary. The cries of unknown animals echoed in the night, creating an unsettling symphony that reinforced Jean-Luc's sense of solitude and vulnerability.

"Damn," he muttered through his teeth.

Hunting was going to be a challenge in itself. Every step in the forest was accompanied by a visceral fear, an almost primal terror. Jean-Luc felt his heart racing; every branch crack under his feet sounded like a thunderclap. The piercing eyes of ghostly beasts shone in the darkness, putting his already tenuous sanity to the test.

*The fight is going to be tough, either I die of hunger, or I resolve to hunt,* he thought somewhat resignedly.

Two hours later.

Indeed, the physical abilities of his new body were above those of the average human, despite his meager cultivation. However, the damn horned rabbit he was furiously skinning with a sharp-edged stone was nothing like a normal rodent. First, it had horns.

The little bugger was fast as hell. It took him ages to track it, and when it was cornered, the rabbit gave him a really vicious fight at the foot of a giant fig tree whose appearance contrasted with the general environment. Mediocre or not, he, Jean-Luc, had bested it.

As night fell, and the rabbit meat slowly sizzled over the fire, Jean-Luc's mind was adrift, searching for perspectives.

*The life of a cultivator doesn't appeal to me. All this stuff about circles, disciples, Moses-like delusions, or splitting the heavens, is not for me.* His alter ego didn't succeed even though it was his dream. *As for me, I've already fulfilled most of my dreams. Even though I'm physically young again, I consider myself too mature, too set in my ways and habits to change suddenly, much to the dismay of the late Chen Wei from the heavens.*

*Although this might be a hasty judgment, I don't want to be part of the madness that reigns in this world. My plan is simple: get out of this forest, join civilization, find a job, save up, and then do what I do best: cook.*

*Even if I'm in another world, their cuisine differs very little from that of my old world. I'll have no trouble readapting or relearning if necessary.*

"My God, this is disgusting," Jean-Luc said between bites. He couldn't wait to get out of here; the lack of flavor could prove fatal if he delayed too long.